wont | CONTACT | on the tranquility

It is not that he finds them terrible, by any means.
But they make him uncomfortable, I think.
There is no reasoning with an animal when you have no talent for them.
An unnerving prospect for some, and doubly so for my father, I feel.

Did you work in a tavern?
Was it terribly bawdy?

Yours,
Alayne.

Edited 2012-08-10 01:19 (UTC)

well, they can be dangerous.
he's smart to remember that.

well, a bar. i guess that'd be the same sort of thing.
and it was sometimes.
before i got the bartending job i worked as a bouncer there -- security, basically.
so i had to kick people out sometimes.
once i was bartending, if anyone got too inappropriate, someone got to kick them out for me.

Jaye,

Might I ask a question?

-Alayne.

[ Well that's terrifying. ]

sure

[ She doesn't want to be rude! ]

Why do you enjoy fighting so well?
Why did you learn?

Is it because of your beauty?

[ Alayne knows the kind of attention beauty brings. She herself had been helpless against it, though she makes no indication of that aloud. Still, the implication hangs between her words. Would it have been wiser for her to learn how to fight, too?

(The answer: no. It would have spared her nothing.) ]

[ She doesn't answer right away, pausing in the halls to look down at her communicator. It's a question she could answer simply, but Alayne, she thinks, should know more of the story. ]

i'll tell you in person.
but i guess that is part of it.

[ And Jaye will be at her room soon, a bag of goods from the outpost slung over her shoulder. ]

[ Alayne wonders if she has spoken too freely, panic prickling at her skin during the silence that proceeds Jaye's answer. When it finally comes, she finds it in herself to breathe easy again, giving a short nod to the device in her hand even though there is no one or nothing to see it. ]

In person, then.

[ When Jaye arrives, Alayne is busying herself about the room, trying to make sure that it is tidy and that she herself is presentable (as if there was any doubt; she always is) ]

[ Jaye does knock, but since Alayne is expecting her she doesn't wait long, slipping inside with her bag. She immediately looks at Alayne to see if she looks well, and then her gaze goes to find Lady to do the same. ]

You can take whatever's in this bag, if you like it. If not, I can find another home for it.

[ It seem a bit silly to say "hi" when they were just texting. ]

[ It may seem silly to say hello when they were just texting but Alayne's response is more than engrained, her hands finding her skirt to lit it slightly as she dips in her usual bow of greeting. Still, she smiles and does not avert her gaze as she does so — a sign, albeit difficult to discern for non-Westerosi, of their friendship.

Lady pads over immediately to snuffle and sniff at Jaye's delivery. Surprise colors Alayne's expression. ] How ever did you manage to carry it all?

[ A smile is a smile, and Jaye returns it before shifting her weight to scratch Lady behind the ears. ] Maybe we'll have something for you in here too, huh Lady?

They had bags. [ Like the one she brought. ] And I took a few trips in between the shuttle and the rest of the outpost.

[ Lady whimpers, not having had much attention nor company during the stop at Strela (none save Petyr and Alayne herself). Her nosing turns eagerly from the bag to Jaye herself, looking for smells both new and familiar. ]

You are as strong as you are brave and stubborn, [ Alayne declares with a grateful smile. (It is good to see her, she thinks. Had she been lonely all this time but hadn't noticed?) ] May— may I embrace you in greeting?

[ Lady will find familiar smells and the smell of the cow and chickens, more plant life due to Jaye spending more time in the Oxygen Garden, and a different sort of soap that she had taken off Strela. Jaye scratches her again, laughing slightly at what Alayne says. ]

Well, I'm definitely stubborn. And yeah, sure. [ She's surprised Alayne is asking, really -- though she guesses she really shouldn't be, especially after the question the girl had asked her on her way over. ]

[It's been a while since he's thought to approach her, this one remains more a whim than a piece to a puzzle. Maybe it's his recent loss that has him indulging again.

Under her door a piece of paper is slipped. It's a sketch in charcoal - a face of a girl on one half and the face of a wolf on the other.

There's no signature or any words on the paper.]

Edited (replaced the image, pretend it looks slightly more finished 8() 2012-08-25 10:12 (UTC)

[Topher wouldn't do this kind of thing for just anyone and he's not sure which of his two friends he's more concerned about, but here he is. There's a casual link to this now infamous post for reference.]

I... apologize for him. He's not used to dealing with human... anything, and he's probably gonna either say something really offensive or refuse to shut up and see reason. I'll try to reign him in.

[Well, that's a fool's errand, but the point is he said TRY.]

[ It is the first time that he has sent private word to her and it makes her feel oddly happy despite the topic at hand. ]

And you claim to make a poor champion.

[Next time he promises it will be for something pleasant. :c]

With him? I call that really patient friendship and a... fear that he might really offend your Stark friends and start panicking about them sending direwolves after him, whether they would or not. With you... It's... Well, I'd hate for you to be offended because he has issues. And... if I swashbuckle, I tend to do it verbally... My experience in the nonverbal kind is... lacking.

[ Friendship doesn't roll that way, Topher. She gets that, it's not like her world is sunshine, rainbows and kittens. ]

The Starks care for honor and though they may take offense,
they would not be so petty as to harm an innocent for slander or wounded pride.
They have faced slings and insults in the past,
your friend is no great threat to them.
Nor they to him, though I believe it will take a much grander effort to see him convinced.

A verbal champion is just as worthy as one that matches sword to sword.
Not every foe may be slain by steel.
Cleverness be your weapon.

I would still accept such a champion.

You would what?

[SORRY. HE COMPLETELY LOST THE POINT OF THIS MESSAGE AND THE ABILITY TO ARTICULATE. And may be turning red. But she can't see that.]

You're a learned man, friend.
You know who I am.

And I know who you are,
though neither of us acknowledge it.

I do not need oaths nor names to know that you would defend me, given the chance.

Well, yeah. Of course I would. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you.

[...In retrospect, maybe he spoke too soon when he said he'd make a lousy champion.]

[ She has a sixth sense for these things. It makes up for overwhelming blindspots elsewhere. ]

As I said:
A champion I would gladly accept.
Though you may worry what others think of you,
know you have earned high estimation from me.
As well as my loyalty.

This is just... so weird. Not a bad weird. It's a good weird. Really. I've just... I mean, I've had friends, but never like this. It's nice. I... Like it. Thank you. It means a lot to me.

[ She laughs at that, her voice bright even though she is alone in the room, save Lady.

There is no need to express thanks for what is freely given.

May I ask what sort of manner is 'this'?

So... formal, I guess. Most people I meet either want nothing to do with me until I force my way into their life or just sorta end up thinking I'm interesting. I've never met anyone who knew this much about me and actually cared enough to stay and hear more.

[And it's true of even the people he's closest to. Ariadne knows very little, Tony even less, even though he's confided in both and trusts them immensely. He never told Kenzi a single thing about the real him, because she was everything he needed in a friend here and he was terrified of losing her (and he did, eventually). Wheatley would never have been his friend had things not radically lined up the way they did, and now he's learned enough to fill a biography, but doesn't care about any of it. Everyone else is a barest touch of superficial- the boy with the bright smile and the pop culture and the weird turns of phrases. He has never given anyone as much as he's given Alayne and gotten back just as much in return. It's not just facts (Wheatley has those in spades- emotional nuance is lost on him), but stories, emotions, the things that you have to spin with pretty words and a hurting heart. The things that make him realize how much he must hate himself.]

[ She sits with his words for a long moment and tries to imagine a clearer picture of the 'good' man named Topher. She tries to imagine him as a child, as an adolescent, as an adult; tries to piece together the strengths and flaws that, when taken in concert, form his imperfect whole. There are facets to him that she does not understand or see — the parts that speak to Wheatley and think him friend enough to speak his cause, the parts that understand science and memory and the mind. In many ways they've gone about friendship all backwards, revealing to one another the deepest parts of themselves while turning their faces in another direction to conceal whatever lies at the very surface. ]

For a long time, I was without friends.
I suffered many things, beneath many hands, and I had not a soul to tell.
Nor a kind hand to comfort me.
Nor an ally of any ilk.
I had to hide who I was in order to keep safe.

To allow a person your true face is a dangerous gift.
But you gave it to me nevertheless, just as I gave you mine.
I would never see such a thing squandered.
It is precious to me.

[ A silence, a pause. Those words hang for a moment. They are close to the truth; too close perhaps. But the game they game has become less a game and more a hook upon which they've hung their respective hearts. Then: ]

Remember this, in the future.
And know that I am true.

[ When you know that I was born Sansa Stark, you will love me less if you forget. ]

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